He lost to Felix Trinidad and Oscar De La Hoya, but he was never knocked out in 88 career fights. His final record of 79-6-3 with 38 knockouts was noteworthy.

He fought three times in Texas, including twice in Corpus Christi.

Mike Ayala was a pro when he crossed paths with Camacho after briefly relocating to New York City in the late 1970s. Sometimes the two sparred at famed Gleason's Gym while Camacho was still an amateur.

Camacho moved to the Big Apple at age 3.

“I could see that he was going to be a star,” Ayala recalls. “He had a lot of talent. He was loud, he was pretty cocky. But he wasn't intimidated.”

Ayala said he would run into Camacho often during their careers.

“He was a character, but he wasn't a clown,” Ayala said.

“Jesse” James Leija never appeared on any cards with Camacho, but the pair hung out over the years at conventions or the boxing hall of fame in Canastota, N.Y.

“I just saw him at the WBC convention (in Las Vegas) in July,” Leija said. “He was always a great guy, always laughing, signing autographs.”

Often leading up to a fight, Camacho's unruly entourage could be heard shouting, “What time is it?”

And Camacho would invariably shout back, “It's ‘Macho' time!”

Leija said the ritual was repeated at the convention in Las Vegas when Camacho walked into a room.

“He was still a showman,” Leija said.

That, as much as anything, would be his legacy.

But Ramos wanted to set the record straight. Some of Camacho's costumes might have been outlandish, but there was substance to go along with the style.